Gogebic

  by Leigh C. Grant

In a silence imposed by bare necessity—

sparseness, the nakedness of timber rafters

outside a crash of thunder wets the trees with sound

and small creatures, small thoughts arise,

little pecks at inspiration

(beat of downy’s beak)

And the rain begins to fall,

downpour of emotion, laden

with northern wisdom

late into the falling of the night

No master plan, no manuscript that

sweeps the stars up into meaning

and singular inspiration into prose, and yet

For now I’ll settle for carving my initials